Practical Magic
by AndAllThatMishigas
Summary: AU, inspired by the 1998 film Practical Magic. Jean Beazley is a witch, living with her aunts in a small town and raising her son, Jack. But when Jack gets himself in over his head with a dangerous woman and private detective Lucien Blake comes investigating, Jean must come to terms with her magical abilities in order to save her son and find the happy ending she's longed for.
1. Chapter 1

**Practical Magic**

"Magic is very dangerous. It is a gift, but it requires great skill and great care. Never forget that, Jeanie."

Jean looked up at her Aunt Nell with big turquoise eyes and nodded her head, heeding the warning. She knew that magic had killed her father, and the pain of losing him had caused her mother to die of a broken heart. Which left Jean in the care of her aunts.

Aunt Agnes rolled her eyes. "You needn't be so melodramatic, Nell. Jean, you are going to be a great witch. You have more power in your little finger than most other witches could ever dream of. We'll teach you, and you'll learn."

And that's just what they did. Jean voraciously read every book her nine-year-old mind could comprehend. She practiced every spell, learning to focus her concentration and her magic along with it. In time, she grew to understand the power that Aunt Agnes had always talked about. The more Jean worked with her magic, the more she seemed to have. A never-ending well inside her.

Living with her aunts and their cats and all the magic in that big, old house, Jean became very lonely. She never knew a day without joy and love; Agnes and Nell made sure of that. But they had lived their lives themselves and had settled down together to raise young Jean. Jean, who had her whole life ahead of her. And she couldn't seem to see past the end of her nose. Would she ever be able to leave? If she did, she'd be more alone somewhere else. Would the people of their small town ever let her become one of them? Ever trust her, ever stop taunting her in their fear of her magic? She couldn't possibly see how.

Late one evening, when she was just past sixteen years old, Jean cast a spell she knew she shouldn't. She sat out under the light of the full moon, mixing thirteen drops of rose oil into thirteen tablespoons of pure water. She placed a consecrated pink candle in the center of the bowl, blowing gently to light it with her magic. Jean smiled. As simple as it was, the magic never failed to fill her with pride and awe.

In the light of the moon and the lit candle, Jean wrote a list of perfect traits on a piece of parchment. "Unendingly kind to those in need. Eyes bluer than the sky. Covered in scars from hardship, which has only birthed empathy. Curly hair that can barely ever be tamed. Brilliant scientist, who seems to know a little bit about everything. Talented musician, always humming a tune. Wildly enthusiastic about everything. Quick with a joke and full of laughter. Doesn't know how to love except with the whole heart."

After she recited and wrote down everything she could think of, Jean lit the corner of the parchment from the candle. The ashes fell into the rose water in the bowl. Carrying the bowl to the edge of the cliff upon which their house stood, Jean closed her eyes and pushed all her magic out through every pore. Slowly, the ashes rose from the bowl, floating in delicate circles around Jean's body. The rose water droplets did the same. The magic sent the spell up to the stars above in search of the impossible man who would save Jean from her desperation.

From the dark kitchen window, Aunt Nell and Aunt Agnes watched their niece perform the true love spell. Their hearts broke for the girl, knowing that no such man could ever exist. But they saw now what she really needed. She needed a life of her own. And they would do everything in their considerable power to help her get it.

For years, Jean waited for the spell to bring her the man she'd tried to conjure. But year after year after year, no one appeared. Periodically, Jean would check the spellbook to see if she'd performed the spell correctly.

"Have you found one yet?" Agnes asked her sister in an impatient whisper.

"Not yet," Nell whispered back. "It can't just be anyone for Jeanie."

"She's nearly too old to be living here. They already talk about her in the streets!"

"Aunt Agnes?"

The aunts turned, startled by Jean's sudden presence in the kitchen. "Yes, dear?" Agnes replied.

"How did my father die?" she asked.

Nell narrowed her eyes, frowning. "Why do you ask, darling?"

"I've lived here fifteen years and I've never asked once. I think I have a right to know."

Agnes answered, "Your mother was conjuring. She never did tell us the exact spell. Based on what happened, I think it was a protection spell, ironically. And something happened that distracted her. Her power was too unfocused and erratic. Your father was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Men aren't as attuned to magic. It's rare that any man can withstand a spell and even rarer that a man would have any magic talent. So the force of the spell, when it hit him, was more than his mortal body could handle. And he died."

"Why would Mother have been casting a protection spell? Was she in danger?"

Nell smiled sadly. "No, dear girl. She was casting it for you. She saw, as we do, that you have magic beyond what any of us knew what to do with. She was afraid that you would accidentally hurt yourself or someone else."

Jean had never heard this story before. She swallowed hard, trying desperately not to cry. Her stomach tied in knots. "She didn't…she didn't die of a broke heart, did she? She died from the guilt of it! She killed her husband to save me!"

"It was an accident, Jean. And you're her daughter. She would have done anything for you. You'll understand when you become a mother."

The tears came on their own accord now. Jean shook her head violently. "No. Never. I'll never do that. I never want to fall in love or have a child or any of it. I can't. I'll just end up hurting everyone like she did. We'd all be better off if no one ever loves me."

A sharp knock on the door interrupted whatever response Nell or Agnes might have had. Jean wiped her eyes and went to answer the door, desperate to escape her aunts and the pitying looks on their faces.

"Hello, I hope you're having a nice day. I wanted to come by and deliver a sample basket from my farm. I'm hoping I can interest you in becoming a customer. I'll be selling fresh vegetables at the market in town every Thursday," the young man recited with feigned enthusiasm. He paused, getting a good look at Jean for the first time. "Oh…are you alright?"

Jean smiled. It was forced at first, but the man in front of her looked so sincere in his concern. It must have been very obvious that she had been crying. And he was very good-looking with his sharp, dark eyes and strong chiseled jaw and sun-tanned complexion. Jean felt her expression soften. "I'm fine. We'd be happy to try your vegetables. And I'm sure I'll see you at the market sometime," she said.

Nell and Agnes watched from the hallway and smirked to each other.

The young man handed Jean a basket. "Christopher Beazley. I hope to see you again. And I hope you enjoy the veg." He smiled brightly before going on his way.

Jean watched him from the doorway for a moment before taking the basket inside.

Two weeks later, Jean and Christopher began their official courtship. They were inseparable. Jean forgot all about her loneliness and her fears about her magic. In fact, she forgot about magic altogether. She didn't need it, and she certainly didn't want it. In less than a year, they were married. A year after that, Jean gave birth to a perfect baby boy, Jack.

Never in her wildest dreams did Jean think that life could be so wonderful. Jean Beazley wasn't a witch or a loner or anyone to be feared. She was just the farmer's wife. She was just the kind woman who sold flowers and vegetables at the market with her beautiful little boy. Everyone adored the Beazleys. Jean finally had friends and a community and a family and a life of her very own. No one was ever going to take it away from her.

But as with everything, the perfect dream couldn't last. When he was about two years old, Jack began exhibiting strange signs. He would start crying just before a storm began, as though he knew when the thunder would strike. He would grow very quiet, almost frightened, when Christopher came in from the fields in a bad mood, as though he knew not to upset his father any further.

When things in the kitchen began to move on their own, Jean couldn't deny it any further. She had to ask Christopher.

"Do you have any magic in your family?" she asked her husband one evening, after she put Jack down to sleep.

Christopher scoffed. "What sort of question is that? Don't be silly, Jean."

"I'm not being silly. Do you have any witches in your family? Your mother, maybe?"

"What? No! That's a ridiculous thing to say."

Jean sighed, seeing now that broaching the subject would be much more difficult than she expected. "I think Jack has magic. Which is extremely uncommon for men, as I understand it."

"How on earth is that possible?"

"Because I'm a witch. As are my aunts, and as was my mother before me and every single woman in my family going back as far as anyone knows." Jean chewed on her lips, waiting for Christopher to respond, unsure of how he would react to her blunt statement.

He looked at her with wide eyes and started to laugh. "You're having me on!"

"No, I'm not. And I think Jack somehow inherited my magic. Which could be very dangerous."

"What, is he going to pull a rabbit from a hat? Turn me to a toad?" He couldn't stop laughing.

"This isn't funny, Christopher!"

"Oh come off it, Jean." He was starting to get annoyed by her foolishness now.

"I'm being quite serious. You really don't believe me?" Jean stubbornly yanked a candle off the mantle of the fireplace in their cozy little living room. She took a deep breath and gently blew on the wick, lighting it with her magic.

Christopher stared, wide-eyed. "What the bloody hell kind of trick is this?"

"No trick. I'm a witch, Christopher. And I think Jack has the same power," Jean stated gravely.

"So, what, you cast some sort of spell on me to make me fall in love with you? Make me marry you?"

Jean tried not to be hurt by his vicious words. She knew he was confused. "No," she replied gently. "I did wish for an impossible man when I was much younger, who never arrived, of course. But you, Christopher Beazley, you fell in love with me and I fell in love with you without any magical interference."

He stared at her. Trying to believe her. But he couldn't. "I can't be here. I can't be in this house with you. I can't even look at you," he spat.

"Christopher, please!" she shouted.

Their loud conversation had woken little Jack. He wandered into the living room, rubbing his eyes. "Mummy? Daddy?"

"Yes, come here to me, love." Jean held out her arms for her son. He waddled over to her with his adorable toddler gait. "I'm sorry we woke you. Let's get you back to bed," she murmured, picking him up. "Christopher, perhaps you'd like to say goodnight to your son?"

He looked at them both with pure disgust. "You get that…thing away from me. If you're right, he's some heathen creature that came from your ungodly evil."

Jean felt as though all the breath had been sucked from her body. His words had struck a cruel blow to her very being. "Christopher, please," she begged, moving toward him with Jack in her arms.

"Get away!" Christopher shouted.

Jack looked at the fear and pain he saw in his mother's face and the fear and anger he saw in his father's. Unsure of what was happening, Jack began to cry. Jean did her best to soothe him but was unsuccessful.

"SHUT UP!" Christopher bellowed.

And Jack couldn't take anymore. He screamed. The whole house shook, as though it had been lifted in the air and thrown back down to the ground. Jean's magic helped her keep her balance, lest she fall and hurt Jack.

Christopher wasn't so lucky. He tumbled to the ground, hitting his head hard on the sharp edge of the table beside the sofa.

When everything settled, there was blood pouring from the wound. Christopher didn't get up. He wasn't breathing. He was gone.

Jean buried her face in Jack's little shoulder, holding him tight against her so he wouldn't see his father in that state. She picked up the phone to call for an ambulance. As soon as she hung up, she carried Jack out of the house.

By the time Jean reached her aunts, they were already waiting for her. Standing in the kitchen, each with unshed tears in their eyes. They already knew what had happened. Agnes took Jack from Jean's arms and helped him fall asleep in the guest room. Nell held Jean in her arms as she sobbed.

Agnes came back downstairs. "Jeanie, we had no idea what would happen. We just wanted you to find some happiness."

Jean's head jerked up, as though connected to a string that had been yanked from above. "You what?"

"We saw you cast that true love spell," Nell confessed gently. "We knew how much you wanted someone, how you waited for the spell to bring him to you. But when we saw how you looked at Christopher, we thought maybe he'd be nice in the interim. We…we didn't think it would go this far."

"How DARE you! How dare you interfere like that!"

"We had no idea what would happen, dear."

Jean looked at each of her aunts angrily. "You brought him to me, now you bring him back. I know you can."

"No, darling, we can't do that. Once the spirit realm has claimed a soul, only the worst of it will return to the mortal world if called back. It would only be the most terrible parts of Christopher. And we won't do that. Not to you and Jack."

The mention of her child's name made Jean begin to cry anew. "Did you know he had magic? Did you know I passed on this…this curse to my son?"

"It's no curse, Jean," Agnes scolded. "But we could sense the gift in him the moment he was born."

"Jack just lost his father because of his magic! Don't you dare ever tell me it's a gift ever again!"

Nell put a kind hand on Jean's shoulder. "There's nothing that can be done now. Why don't you let us help you sleep? You need to sleep."

Jean shrugged off the affectionate touch. "I'll be up with Jack," she muttered.

Thankfully, Jack was sound asleep when Jean reached him. Aunt Agnes had probably put him to sleep with a spell. Jean had done the same thing when Jack had colic as an infant. It helped give restful sleep to those who needed it. And Jack certainly need it now.

Gently stroking the dark wavy hair on her little boy's head, Jean whispered to him, "Magic is very dangerous. It is not a gift. It requires great skill and great care, and that is why no one will ever teach you and you will never learn. Because the more you learn, the more magic you'll have. Opening that well will only cause more pain. I promise you that, love. But I will always keep you safe, Jack. You will never even need to call out for me. I will always know. I will always protect you. And I will always love you."

Eventually, Jean settled to sleep with her son in her arms. She knew they were all each other had now.


	2. Chapter 2

Jean settled into some semblance of a life. It was far too familiar to the one she'd had before Christopher. The fear and taunting from the people in town had returned. The rumor of Christopher Beazley's tragic death swirled around her like a permanent fog. But Jean would never let them get to her. She just held her head high and walked right past the pointing and whispering.

She tried to teach Jack to do the same. She knew it couldn't have been easy to have her as a mother. His schooldays were marked by fighting and mouthing off and detention. And as much as Jean warned her son, he defiantly flexed the muscles of his magic, making chalk explode in a teacher's hand, causing the chair to collapse under the seat of a school bully, creating a spraying leak in the water fountain to distract from an exam he didn't want to take.

The aunts had adhered to Jean's rules of never teaching Jack about his magic, but when his mother wasn't looking, they allowed him to watch them work as they sold spells to the desperate townspeople who came to call.

Jean was far too exhausted most of the time to ever really put her foot down with them. She was living in their house with her son. There was only so much she could do. She spent most of her time at her florist shop. She had always had a special gift with growing flowers, both at the aunts' house and at Christopher's farm. This seemed like a natural way to spend her time.

Jack would come by the shop after school each day and do his homework and help his mother when things were busy. Most of the customers were polite, though some muttered under their breath about the mysterious Jean Beazley.

"She's a pretty woman, but it's no wonder she's never remarried. You know she killed her husband?" an elderly customer whispered to her companion.

"She's never done anything wrong ever, you take that back!" Jack shouted.

The customers stared, frightened by the boy's outburst.

"Take it back," Jack repeated through clenched teeth. He raised his hand, ready to expel magic that would make those gossipy ladies regret their words.

"Jack!" Jean appeared in the doorway to the workroom and smacked the twelve-year-old's hand down. "Don't you dare," she warned him.

"Mum, you don't know what they were saying!" he whined.

"Yes, Jack, I do," she replied knowingly. "Go do your homework in the back." Jean gave him a small push to leave before turning to the terrified customers. "I'm so sorry, ladies. My son is a very sensitive boy. How can I help you?"

The older Jack got, the worse it became. His magical outbursts had lessened, thankfully, but his distaste for their town had surpassed that of Jean's when she was young. He had grown to despise it, desperate to leave, longing to go far away where he could be free of the burden of his family.

And even though he never voiced it to Jean, knowing how it would hurt her, she could sense his despair. Which was why she didn't go after him when he disappeared from the house late one night just after he had finished school. He didn't even say goodbye. Jean felt something tug at her, deep inside her chest, and she bolted awake. Jack was leaving. "Be safe, my darling. I love you," she whispered into the night.

Jack felt a breeze tickle the back of his neck and heard his mother's soft voice in his ear. He looked back at the big old house that had been his home as long as he could remember, and he smiled, silently promising to see her again soon.

Despite knowing that leaving home was really what Jack needed, Jean couldn't help but lose a lot of her spark with him gone. Nell would grin brightly at her niece, making her chocolate cake for breakfast. Jean would only stretch her mouth for a moment, a strained smile that never reached her eyes before it disappeared again. Agnes would make her inappropriate and sarcastic comments that used to make Jean laugh, but now she only blew a puff of air from her nose, barely acknowledging anything.

"I'm off to the shop!" Jean called out as she left for work one morning.

"Do try not to depress your customers," Agnes warned bluntly.

Jean paused with her hand on the doorknob. She sighed. "I miss him."

"I know, but you really must try to pull yourself together. He's been gone for almost a month now."

"I just feel so alone," Jean admitted.

"You have us, dear," Nell pointed out.

"And I love you both very much. I'll come home for lun—" Jean froze, her eyes unfocusing. "Jack," she whispered.

Jean wasn't sure how exactly she'd gotten there. But she found herself standing outside the door of a dingy apartment in the middle of nowhere. All Jean knew was that Jack was in trouble. She pushed open the unlocked door and walked inside.

She gasped at the sight of half a dozen young people, all about Jack's age, in varying states of intoxication. Dirty needles and white powder and ashes from burned substances littered the floor. And huddled in the back corner was none other than Jack Beazley, slumped against the wall with a needle still in his hand.

Unconcerned with anything else, Jean ran to her son and took him in her arms. "You will _not_ do this to yourself," she murmured firmly. She let out a deep breath very slowly through pursed lips, blowing her healing magic onto his face and hair and arms and chest. When he blinked his eyes open, Jean helped him to stand. She carried him downstairs and put him in the lobby of a discreet hotel with money in his pocket.

Jean was back at the florist shop in time to open for the day.

Over the next two years, Jean appeared to keep Jack safe from himself on no fewer than six occasions. Sometimes he realized she was there. They would talk. He would promise to stop the drugs and the drinking and the women and the partying and living outside the law. And within a few months, Jean would be back again, taking car keys from his hand when he had a bottle of vodka in the other. She had to put spells on four different girls who had been the victims of one of Jack's magical outbursts; none of them were ever hurt, just scared and confused, and Jack had less control when he was under the influence of something, which was more often than not, it seemed.

"You can't keep saving him, Jeanie," Aunt Nell pointed out one day.

"I don't know how I could possibly stay away when I know he needs me," Jean replied. "He's my son and I'm his mother, and it's my duty to protect him. Especially from himself."

"He'll never learn if you keep this up. And you'll never have any life of your own," Aunt Agnes told her.

"And what's wrong with that? He has been my entire life since the day he was born, and that's all the life I'm really ever going to get." Jean's mind briefly flashed on the pink candle and the ashes of the parchment of her true love spell, but she quickly shoved that thought aside.

The phone rang, interrupting the conversation. Nell stood to answer it, but Jean pushed past her.

"Jack, what is it, love?" she asked desperately, knowing it was him calling.

"I want you to come visit. I want you to meet Maggie."

Jean began to smile. She hadn't heard him sound this happy in such a long time. "Maggie?"

"Yeah. She's incredible. I've never met any woman who's stronger than me. She's larger than life and so full of everything I've always felt like I was too much of. Energy and all that. I love her, Mum, and I want you to meet her."

She was shocked, in all honesty, to hear him babble on about a woman this way. This Maggie must have been special to affect her Jack this way. "I'd love to meet her. I'll come tomorrow, alright?"

"Great, can't wait! Love you, Mum."

"I love you, Jack. See you tomorrow."

Jean hung up the phone and turned to the aunts with a big grin. "Jack's fallen in love. She must be some woman. I'm going to go meet her tomorrow."

"You could bring them back here with you, if you like. We're off to the solstice festival. We're chairing the committee."

"Enjoy dancing naked under the full moon," Jean teased.

"The nudity is entirely optional," Nell reminded her.

"Well I'm sure I'll be home tomorrow night, so the house won't be left alone too long."

"Yes, you know how it doesn't like to be lonely," Agnes noted, patting the wood beam of the doorframe.

Jean closed up the florist shop early the next day so she could make her way to Jack. He hadn't told her where he and Maggie were, but he never needed to. Jean always knew where to find him.

But as she drove, she felt the familiar tugging in her heart. It was faint at first, a cautious warning. Soon, however, the feeling became more urgent, more desperate, more dangerous.

"Jack? Jack!" she shouted upon reaching the motel room that she instinctively knew he was in.

"Is she out there?" came a small voice.

Jean was shocked by what she found. Never before in all the near-overdoses and manic crime sprees had she ever been truly shocked to see the state of her son. But this was unlike anything she could have ever expected. "Who, darling?" she asked him, stroking his hair soothingly.

"Maggie. She's lost it. I thought that's why I loved her. That she's so much more reckless and wild and dangerous than I am. She's the first woman who wasn't afraid of me. And I thought that meant we were supposed to be together. But something happened earlier. I don't know what. But she's nuts. I don't know what she's going to do."

"Shhh, try to take a deep breath, Jack. Calm down. I'm here now. Everything is fine," Jean murmured. "Did she hurt you?"

"No, of course not. But she's got this knife that she plays about with. I thought it was sort of…sexy."

Jean had to force herself to not roll her eyes. Leave it to Jack to have the worst possible taste in women. "Come along. I'm taking you home. This isn't a discussion." She helped him stand up from the floor. He limped with her out of the hotel room. "What's wrong with your leg?" she asked with concern.

"Maggie threw me off the bed and kicked me around a bit. Little rougher than usual. I'm fine," he insisted.

Jean resigned herself to yelling at him later.

"Mum, I gotta get my bag out of her car, hang on." Jack shuffled over to where Maggie's beat up old station wagon was parked. He opened the door to the backseat to reach in and get his backpack.

There was a stifled shout, and Jean saw Jack fall onto the seat, his legs sticking out of the open car door. "Jack? Come on, let's go please." She made her way over to collect him.

"You can drive."

The cruelest voice Jean had ever heard sounded from the darkness of the car. "I beg your pardon?"

There was a click and the interior lamp of the car went on, revealing a woman with bleach-blonde hair and smeared makeup holding a knife to Jack's throat. "You must be Mrs. Beazley. Pleasure. I'm Maggie Rhodes. Soon to be Maggie Beazley, isn't that right, Jack? We're going to be married. Just as soon as that mummy of yours drives the damn car!" Maggie pressed the knife harder into Jack's skin for emphasis. A small bead of blood began to form over the blade.

Jean didn't ask any more questions. She just got behind the wheel and began to drive back home.

Her heart was pounding in her chest as she continually glanced in the rearview mirror at Maggie, now sitting up with Jack. The knife was still in her hand, but at least it wasn't on his neck anymore.

"Please don't do this. Not to my mother. Just let her go home, please," Jack quietly begged his psychotic girlfriend.

"You were going to leave me, Jack, weren't you? You know you can't do that. I can't live without you, Jack. We need each other!" Maggie replied emphatically.

 _Do something! Knock her out! We can leave her at a bus station with some money and drive away so she'll never find us!_

Jean heard Jack's voice loudly in her head. She swerved the car slightly, surprised by it. She'd never received such a clear, focused message from him before. She nodded subtly into the mirror so he would see that she received his message.

It had been a very long time since Jean had consciously cast a spell on another person. Ever since Christopher's death, Jean had used her magic exclusively to keep up with Jack, to protect him. Though this probably fell into that category as well. But it took great concentration for her to force another person into sleep while she was driving a car.

"I want us to be together forever, Jack. Don't you want that?" Maggie moaned, leaning over to press open-mouthed, wet kisses on his face.

"Yes, I want that. Of course we'll be together forever," Jack assured her, trying to avoid her hungry mouth.

"Good. We're going to die together and live for eternity. How about right now?" Maggie grinned manically and raised the knife, prepared to stab it into Jack's chest.

Jean wasn't exactly sure what had happened. Someone screamed. Was it her? The car skidded to a stop. She must have slammed on the brakes. Jean knew she'd expelled a great force of magic, but it had lacked any sort of focus.

"Mum, it's fine! I'm fine! Stop screaming!" Jack shouted.

She panted, trying to get her heart to a regular rhythm. Turning in the seat, she saw Jack push the unconscious Maggie off of him, ripping the knife out of her hand.

"Oh no." Jack went deathly pale. "Oh no, oh no."

"What is it?"

"Mum, I think she's dead."

Jean felt her insides turn cold. She had done that. It was an accident, but she'd done that. She'd been so afraid and so unfocused, and her magic and done more damage, just as it always did.

"Take us to the house. We can bring her back. I know the aunts have that spell. I remember looking at it in the book when I was little!" Jack exclaimed. "Then we can leave her somewhere, no harm done."

"No, we can't do that."  
"You can! I know you can. You're the most powerful witch in the world!"

"Jack, listen to me. If we try to use magic to bring her back, it will only be the worst parts of her soul. She won't really come back."

"How do you know?"

"Because I tried this same thing when your father died."

"That's different. Dad wasn't killed by magic. He fell and hit his head. Maggie got hit by a spell. That's gotta count for something with the magic! And besides, her entire soul is the worst of her, so it should work just fine."

"That's not how it works."

"Please just try. Please. We can't have killed someone!" Jack was beginning to get hysterical, his voice cracking and his hands shaking.

Jean should have known she couldn't refuse him this. She'd never managed to refuse him anything ever before. For Jack, she would try.

When they returned home, it was very late at night. The aunts would surely be gone by now. The house was empty. Jack carried Maggie's body into the kitchen, and Jean retrieved the old spellbook.

With great haste and deliberation, Jean directed Jack through the preparation of the spell, collecting ingredients and drawing symbols on Maggie's skin. They chanted the incantation together, hoping their combined power would serve their intention.

All of a sudden, the air was sucked from the room. All the candles they'd lit blew out.

"Jack!"

Maggie's voice sounded through the dark room. There was a scuffle, a groan of pain, a shriek of surprise, a clatter of things being knocked over.

Jean fumbled to turn on the kitchen lamp. The room was illuminated just in time for Jean to see Jack throw Maggie off of him. She popped right up from the floor, laughing. She reached for the kitchen knife that had fallen from the counter. "We're going to be together forever!" she cackled, lunging toward Jack. He dodged, barely. The knife tore a hole in his shirt.

Maggie geared up for another lunge that was never completed. Without thinking, Jean picked up the cast iron pan and swung it hard at Maggie's blonde head. With a deafening crack, she fell to the floor. Blood was dripping from her nose.

"We'll bury her in the garden," Jean announced, her voice flat.

Jack just nodded, picking her up and following his mother outside.

Elsewhere, a stranger arrived in town after driving for two days straight. He got out of his car and breathed in the air of the new place. He smiled. The air smelled of roses.


	3. Chapter 3

"Mum, when do the aunts get back?" Jack asked, wandering into the kitchen for breakfast.

"Next week. They're on the committee," she reminded him, stifling a yawn. Jean hadn't slept at all. She had sat up in her room for a few hours, staring at the wall, too anxious to move. When the sun had peeked over the horizon, she had decided to get up and start the day. Perhaps if she pretended everything was alright, it would be. Besides, she had Jack with her. Her boy was safe. She could hold onto that.

Jack frowned. "You alright?"

Jean glared at him. "Jack…" she warned.

He nodded and turned away. They had agreed not to speak of what had happened the night before. Jean wasn't ready to face what she had done. She wasn't sure she ever would.

"How many eggs, love?" she asked, forcing normalcy.

"Two, please," he replied. Jack suddenly felt like he was ten years old again. His mother making him breakfast. Everything calm and comfortable inside the safety of the big, old house. One of the cats wound around his ankles at the table. The sound of Maggie's cackling laugh in the distance.

Jack bolted up upon hearing the noise.

Jean regarded him closely. "What's wrong?"

"Didn't you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"It was…" His pounding heart started to slow, and he took a few deep breaths. "Nothing." He sat back down and ate the plate of eggs placed in front of him.

Jean got her own breakfast and sat across the table from him, still glancing at him with concerned looks.

Later in the day, Jack accompanied his mother to the florist shop. Some of the customers remembered him from his years helping out as a child.

"It's nice to see you back in town, Jack. Come home, have you?" Patrick Tyneman asked, greeting pleasantly.

Jack glared at him. Of all the people he'd known in his life, the Tynemans were the worst. Edward Tyneman was about his age, the ringleader of the bullies that tortured Jack for having a witch for a mother. That fact hadn't stopped Patrick, the wealthiest and most lecherous man in town from coming onto Jean in the middle of the shop with Jack watching, only to spread vicious rumors about her when she rebuffed him.

"Don't be rude, Jack," Jean prompted, forcing a smile for Patrick as she wrapped up his weekly order of tulips for his wife.

"I'm here helping out Mum, yeah," Jack replied stiffly.

Patrick looked at Jack as though he were a bit of rubbish stuck to the bottom of his shoe. He turned his attention back to the lovely widow holding the bouquet of flowers for him. "Ah, Jean, by the way, there's a chap staying at the inn who was asking about you. From out of town."

Jean frowned. "Oh. Well, I'm closing up now, but I'll be back tomorrow to open."

"I'll make sure he knows where the shop is. Thank you for the lovely flowers, as always." Patrick politely nodded to both Jean and Jack before leaving the shop.

"Darling, you go home. I'll close up." Jean knew that she and Jack would get more attention walking down the street together. He had developed the keen sense to blend in when he was on his own. And today, of all days, the Beazleys didn't need to be noticed.

Jack didn't need telling twice. He hurried home and went straight up to his room and closed the door, hoping to drown out the world with a hot shower and perhaps a nap.

When Jean finally made her way home, she allowed her mind to wander to the man who was looking for her at the inn. She couldn't imagine who would travel to town to see her for any reason. But she could spend a quiet evening at home with her son and worry about that tomorrow when whoever it was would probably come into the shop.

A knock came at the front door almost immediately after she'd gone inside. She opened it to find a very tall man, perhaps slightly older than herself, with impossibly blue eyes shining from a bearded face topped with messy, curly hair. Inexplicably, Jean stared at him with wide, confused eyes. Her breath caught in her throat.

"Pardon me, are you Jean Beazley?"

"Yes, I am."

"And your son is Jack Beazley?"

"Yes. Who are you?" she snapped.

He smiled, making her heart skip a beat. "Sorry. Dr. Lucien Blake."

"Doctor?"

"Yes. But I'm here in my capacity as a private detective. I'm investigating the escape and disappearance of Margaret Rhodes. The last known contact I have from her mentions Jack Beazley, and the evidence found at his last known address led me to you."

Jean felt panic rise in her chest, but she willed her voice to remain strong and even, no matter how much she felt like crying and screaming in fear. "I see," was all she could manage to say.

"Is Jack Beazley here?"

"Yes, he is. Why don't…why don't you come inside, and I'll go get him," Jean stammered.

Lucien Blake brushed past Jean as he walked in. She closed the door behind him. His nose twitched, and he turned his head curiously. "Are you burning a candle, by any chance?"

"I don't think so. We have them all over, but I haven't lit any today yet."

The smallest of smiles formed on his lips. "I smell melted wax. It's an odd scent but I really like it, for whatever reason. And I thought I just caught a whiff of it. I must have been mistaken."

Jean didn't know how to respond. "I'll go get Jack." She hurried up the stairs and went right into her son's bedroom. "Jack!" she hissed.

He was in bed, trying to take a nap. He hadn't been able to drown out the sound of Maggie's laughter in his head. "Mum? What's going on?"

"There is a detective downstairs looking for you. He said he's investigating the disappearance of Margaret Rhodes," she told him in a harsh whisper. "And I don't know what to say to him!"

"You don't need to say anything. I'll take care of this," Jack said definitively, getting out of bed and throwing on a shirt.

Jean followed him downstairs, trying not to hide behind him and look like a fool.

Jack stretched his neck and put a charming smile on his face. This was what he did best. "I heard we have a detective visiting."

Lucien looked up from where he was examining the books on the shelf to see an attractive young man coming to greet him. "Yes. Lucien Blake. You're Jack Beazley?"

"I am. My mother tells me you're looking for Maggie?"

"Yes. I was hoping I could talk with you about her. First, do you know where she is?"

Jack shrugged. "I haven't seen her."

"In how long?"

"Two days, wasn't it, Mum?" Jack asked, putting an affectionate hand on his mother's arm.

Jean just nodded.

"You were with them?" Lucien asked, turning to Jean.

She nodded again.

Jack redirected the attention, seeing that his mother wasn't going to do well under the pressure. He launched into a story of how Maggie had gotten out of hand in front of Jean when she'd come to meet Jack and his girlfriend. Maggie had threatened them both with a knife, even going so far as to make a small cut on Jack's neck. Jean had taken Jack away from there before she could do any more damage, and they'd driven straight home.

Lucien listened to the tale with an expression of cautious skepticism. "I see. And you drove that car in the front drive there?" he asked Jean.

"My car, yes," Jack answered.

"That is the car that was stolen by Margaret Rhodes from Matthew Lawson, whose son, Charlie, was murdered by Margaret Rhodes," Lucien informed them.

"What!?" Jack exclaimed.

Lucien chuckled cynically. "You really don't know anything about her, do you? Though I shouldn't be surprised. You seem just her type."

"Why don't you explain yourself, Dr. Blake?" Jean interrupted, folding her arms across her chest in annoyance.

"Please, call me Lucien," he insisted.

"Lucien, I think you should start from the beginning," Jean requested emphatically.

He launched into an explanation of Margaret Rhodes, who had, in her young life, murdered four men and her own baby all before turning twenty-five. She had been sentenced to life in prison, but had somehow escaped during a transfer and evaded capture for over a year. Lucien had been hired by the Lawson family to find her, since the police seemed to have given up.

"Oh how awful!" Jean exclaimed.

"Yes, I must say that I don't relish the idea of actually catching up to her. But I can't rest until I can bring the families of the victims some peace," Lucien admitted.

Jean just stared at him, thinking of how kind this man must be. How kind and how tenacious and how beautiful. She swallowed hard, forcing herself to look away.

Jack watched his mother with concern. He deflected attention away from her as best he could. "Lucien, I wish we could help you. But we barely escaped her ourselves. If she wasn't where I left her, I don't know where she is."

"Right." Lucien obviously was suspicious, but didn't press the issue. Yet. "If either of you think of anything else, please let me know. I'll be staying at the inn in town."

"Are you staying?" Jean asked surprised.

He smiled softly at her. "For a little while."

Lucien thanked them again and allowed Jack to walk him out. Jean was oddly frozen where she stood. It was probably sleep deprivation that had caused her to feel this way, like everything in Lucien Blake's presence felt warm and slow. And now that he had walked away, she felt everything speed up at an alarming rate. Everything he'd said twisted and turned through her mind. And something stuck out.

Jack closed the door behind the doctor, but Jean pushed past him and ran outside. "Lucien!" she called.

He stopped and turned to her. "Yes, Jean?"

Her heart skipped a beat hearing him say her name. She ignored it. "You said something at Jack's last residence led you here. What was it?" she asked.

Lucien's mouth spread into a secretive smile. He pulled a well-worn envelope out of his pocket. Jean recognized her own handwriting on it.

She snatched it out of his hand. "This was a letter I wrote to Jack! How did you get it?"

"He and Maggie must have left before it was delivered."

"And you read it?"

He nodded. "A few times."

Not fully remembering what she had said in a letter to her son from a few weeks earlier, Jean opened the torn envelope and pulled out the sheet of paper inside so she could read it.

 _Jack,_

 _I do hope this letter finds you happy and safe. I think it will, as I'd know if the case were otherwise. I miss you terribly, but the fact that I haven't seen you in quite a while means that you're doing well._

 _Since I know how cross you get when I spend too much time worrying about you, I'll give you the same boring update on my end. The aunts are the same as ever. The shop is doing very good business, despite the usual whispers and annoying protests. Yes, they still fill bare parts of the weekly newspaper with gossip about us when there isn't anything new to print._

 _But you know none of that really bothers me. I'm sure you'd disagree with that statement, as would the aunts. I do mean it, though. I'm not bothered by what people in town think of me, though it would be nice to be thought of well. What really bothers me is the emptiness that the isolation and public shaming creates. When you were here, I had you to focus on. We could commiserate, I think. But with you so far away, the loneliness creeps in sometimes, and I'm reminded that the future doesn't look much different than what I have right now._

 _Please remember, Jack, no matter what I ever have or will ever suffer through, it is more than worth it for you to be happy and safe. Forgive your mother for her sentimentality. But that's all that will ever matter. Just be happy and safe._

 _Love, Mum_

Jean glanced up at Lucien. He had a strange expression on his face as he watched her read.

"Based on what you said, I had a feeling that you'd know where to find Jack," he explained.

"You've found me and Jack. Well done," she replied acerbically.

"But no Maggie Rhodes." He nodded at her politely. "Lovely to meet you, Jean." With that, he turned and left.

Over the next few days, Lucien Blake wandered all around the little town, asking about Jean and Jack. He was thoroughly unprepared for the information he gathered.

"She's a witch. Jean and those aunts of hers. Using their voodoo on anyone weak enough for them to ensnare."

"Jack's always been an odd duck. Getting into fights and such. Fiercely loyal to that sorceress mother of his. Maybe she put a spell on him."

"Jean's nice enough. Quiet and polite. Her flowers are always so beautiful. And she donates them to the local hospital for the patients who have been neglected."

"She killed her husband, you know."

"I hear she keeps that shop by not paying rent because she seduced Patrick Tyneman into the arrangement."

Lucien didn't know what to think. The woman who wrote that letter couldn't be the woman who was subject to all those rumors. Besides, he was a man of science. Magic was a think of make-believe fairy tales. But he was intrigued, to say the least.

He finally went into her shop to talk to her again. He was greeted far less kindly than the first time they'd spoken.

"I work very hard to keep the few customers I can manage to get, and your impertinent questions are driving away business!" she scolded.

Lucien was taken aback by her sharp tone and the glare she gave him. "I am sorry. That wasn't my intention, I assure you."

Her gaze softened. "No, I suppose it wasn't. But I hope you can see that whatever you've learned about me from the people in this town has absolutely nothing to do with Maggie."

"Not so far. Is Jack around?" he asked.

"He wasn't feeling well, so I had him stay home. The aunts should be home today, so they'll take care of him when they get back."

"I'd like to speak with him."

Jean didn't like that tone. "You can come back to the house with me in just a bit, if you can wait for me to close up for the day."

Lucien happily watched her put all her finishing touches on everything, tending to the flowers and cleaning things up before she left. She was terribly efficient and masterful at everything she did. There was an elegance about her that was…magical. Lucien smiled to himself at the word choice in his own mind.

The aunts were already home when Jean and Lucien arrived. She introduced Dr. Lucien Blake to her Aunt Nell and Aunt Agnes.

Nell came right up to him and placed her hands on his cheeks. "Oh yes, you'll do fine." She said nothing more.

Agnes scrutinized the tall man in front of her, looking him up and down with narrowed eyes. "Hmm. Good heart, quite dented."

Lucien glanced to Jean, unsure of how to response. She rolled her eyes.

"You must stay for dinner!" Nell insisted.

Jean smiled and before she could stop herself, replied, "Yes, you should."

Lucien readily agreed. Jean went to check on Jack, who was still resting, before starting on the meal.

The aunts engaged Lucien in endless personal questions. They seemed to know bits and pieces of him already. Perhaps that was part of the rumors he'd heard about in town. It was a bit eerie.

"You have scars, don't you?" Agnes asked him without warning.

Jean perked up, eavesdropping from the kitchen.

"Yes, actually, I do. I was a prisoner of war when I was in the army. But I survived, and the experience made me a better doctor, I think," he answered honestly.

Nell and Agnes exchanged glances. "Lucien," Nell began, "did I hear you humming something earlier? Are you a singer?"

"Oh I'm always humming something. It used to annoy my ex-wife something awful."

"We have a piano. Play us something," Agnes insisted.

Lucien allowed the elder ladies to lead him to the piano, which was in view from the kitchen where Jean was hard at work. She pretended to ignore the commotion.

He began to play an old song and sang along. Lucien's talent and appreciation for music were evident. The aunts enjoyed his playing, but they were both more focused on watching their niece, who was staring at Lucien with a dream-like expression on her lovely face.

"I'll go tell Jack," Nell whispered to Agnes excitedly. Agnes nodded.

"I don't feel good, Aunt Nell," Jack whined upon seeing the visitor to his bedroom. He hadn't been able to sleep in days. Whenever he could doze off, he woke suddenly in a grip of panic. The same exact panic he'd felt when Maggie had been about to stab him.

"Jack, there's something you should know about that Lucien Blake."

"Mum fancies him," Jack said with a smirk, pushing his own troubles out of his mind.

Nell laughed, "I should hope so! He's the one she conjured! He's finally arrived!"

Jack frowned. "What do you mean?"

She explained, "When your mother was a girl, she cast a true love spell. Rose water and a consecrated candle and the ashes of a list of perfect traits. She didn't know that Agnes and I were listening when she recited her list."

"And what was on that list?"

Nell repeated the recitation she'd memorized, hoping to one day recognize the man when he finally arrived for Jean. "Unendingly kind to those in need. Eyes bluer than the sky. Covered in scars from hardship, which has only birthed empathy. Curly hair that can barely ever be tamed. Brilliant scientist, who seems to know a little bit about everything. Talented musician, always humming a tune. Wildly enthusiastic about everything. Doesn't know how to love except with the whole heart."

Jack was skeptical. "And you think Lucien Blake has all those traits?"

"Oh yes, certainly. Come down to dinner and see for yourself."


	4. Chapter 4

Dinner was a light, charming affair. Lucien Blake somehow endeared himself to everyone at the table. Nell and Agnes both always enjoyed the company of strangers, so long as they were kind. This one definitely was. But more than that, the aunts were amazed at the way Jean smiled and laughed all through the evening. They weren't sure they had ever seen her so happy.

Even Jack noticed the change in his mother. He had trouble paying attention or engaging in much conversation, however. He was still feeling a bit unwell. Ever since Maggie, he had been unable to sleep and unable to focus his mind. But seeing his mother so joyful eased his troubled heart ever so slightly.

After the meal, the aunts made a rather odd excuse to leave the room, claiming they needed to harvest the jasmine in the light of the quarter moon. Jean glared at them slightly as Lucien thanked them for their hospitality.

Jack excused himself to go back to bed. Jean inquired after him, worried. But he insisted he was just tired and trudged up the stairs to his room.

"Can I give you a hand with the dishes?" he offered.

"That's very kind of you. But you don't have to. You came to speak with Jack, not spend your evening with the whole family," Jean replied.

"I'll speak to Jack another time. I enjoyed this evening immensely. You are a wonderful cook, Jean, and your family is lovely."

Jean pursed her lips to keep herself from smiling. "I'm glad you think so." And she was glad. She couldn't figure out why, but she was genuinely pleased that this man, an annoying stranger investigating them for Maggie's disappearance, enjoyed spending time with her family. He was standing just a little too close to her to be professional. He was smiling at her, and her mouth got dry. "If you really do want to help with the washing up, you could use that towel there," she said, breaking eye contact and pointing to the cook on the counter.

They didn't speak much as Jean washed the dishes and Lucien dried them, stacking each item neatly beside the sink. It was oddly easy and comfortable.

"Jean."

She finished washing the last water glass and turned off the water. "Yes?"

He dried the final item and turned to her, his expression very serious. "I don't know what to believe about the ridiculous things I've heard in town about you and Jack and your family. And I don't know what's happened to Maggie. But it's my duty to find out. And I know that there are things you aren't telling me. Maggie is an awful woman, and I know better than most how dangerous she is. But I swear to you, Jean, that if you're honest with me, I can protect you."

Jean frowned. "We don't need protecting from her anymore, I promise you that."

His eyes widened. "Jean, did you or your son kill Maggie Rhodes?"

"Yes. A couple of times, actually." She made her way around him and picked up the stack of plates to put away in the cupboard. "Thank you for your help, Lucien. But I think it's time we said goodnight."

He stared, slack-jawed and confused. It took him a moment to realize what she'd said. "I'm not kidding, Jean!"

"Neither am I. Goodnight," she told him firmly. "I have to see to my son. You can show yourself out."

Lucien watched her walk up the stairs away from him before he stormed out of the house, practically slamming the door behind him.

As soon as Jean reached the door to Jack's room, the aunts accosted her. "What on earth has been going on in this house!?" Agnes asked sharply.

"Jack had some trouble with a woman, but I took care of it."

"I'm afraid you didn't, dear, if there's a detective sniffing about. I don't care how good-looking he is. This can't be good," Nell cautioned.

Agnes put a gentle hand on her niece's cheek and sighed. "Jean, when are you going to stop pushing away everyone that wants to help you?"

Jean frowned. "But Jack…"

"We'll stay with Jack. Go," Nell insisted.

And with that, Jean hurried out of the house to go to the inn where Lucien was staying. She pounded on the door until he let her in.

"Jean," he greeted in surprise.

"I don't want to hide anymore. I can't. Ask me anything you want to know. I'll tell you everything."

Lucien nodded slowly, watching her anxious movements with concern. "Are you quite sure?"

"I'm sure. I want this over and done."

They sat at the small table at the edge of the room across from one another.

"Ask me anything," she insisted.

"Are you really a witch?"

The corners of her mouth ticked upward. "Yes. Rather out of practice, but yes. I have magic. My aunts have magic. And my son has magic."

"Jack does, too?"

"Yes."

Lucien wasn't sure what to do with that information. He had been curious, but he hadn't expected that response. "Where is Maggie Rhodes?"

"I think she's somewhere we can't even fathom." Before Lucien could ask another question, Jean asked him, "How many times did you read my letter?"

"Pardon?"

"My letter to Jack that you had. It was all soft from being handled. How many times did you read it?"

Lucien shook his head. "This isn't about me. This is about Maggie Rhodes. Is she dead?"

"Yes. You can tell the families of all her victims that we saved another life and rid the world of a horrid woman."

"Are you telling me that you and Jack killed Margaret Rhodes?"

Jean paused, feeling a cold grip in her heart. "Jack didn't kill anyone."

"Jack didn't. But you did?" His tone was quiet, gentle.

She swallowed hard. "She was going to kill him. She had a knife to his throat, and she was going to stab him in the backseat of the car while I was driving." Her voice cracked as she tried not to cry.

"What did you do, Jean?"

Tears formed in her eyes. "I don't know. I screamed. I don't know what I did. But she was dead."

Unable to stop himself, no matter how unprofessional, Lucien stood and pulled Jean into his arms. "Shh, it's all over now. Jack is fine. You protected him. Everything is going to be alright."

She leaned into his embrace and cried. His large hands spread across her back, soothing her with his touch. Jean couldn't recall when she'd ever felt so safe in all her life. She was able to stop sobbing and resume regular breathing pattern. Pulling back slightly, she looked into his eyes. His concern for her was genuine and sincere.

Lucien brought his hands to her face, using his thumbs to wipe the tears from her cheeks. Her soft cheeks. Even tear-stained, she was beautiful. "Jean," he whispered.

Every time he said her name, she felt a jolt through her chest. She put her hands on his wrists. She had meant to push his hands away, regain her composure. That's what she had thought she would do.

But suddenly, her mouth had found its way to his. Their kiss was fiery and strong from the first moment. Lucien's hands wrapped around her waist, roaming up and down her back. Jean tangled her fingers in his curly hair.

They stumbled around, eventually falling onto the bed, never breaking the kiss. Jean sucked on his lower lip, feeling the scratch of his beard on her chin and cheeks. His tongue found its way to hers, soft and nimble, tasting her passion.

Lucien reluctantly pulled away, holding himself up on top of her. Jean gazed into his eyes, pleased at the dark desire she saw there. She was sure her eyes matched his. There was something about those blue eyes that she craved. And the feel of his curly hair between her fingers. And the kindness of his words. And the musicality of his voice. But especially his eyes. "Bluer than the sky," she whispered in sudden realization.

Her expression changed rapidly, from lust to fear. "What was that?" he asked, suddenly worried.

"Your eyes. Bluer than the sky." She sat up, forcing him to roll off her. Jean put her face in her hands, realizing what was happening. "Unendingly kind to those in need. Eyes bluer than the sky. Covered in scars from hardship, which has only birthed empathy. Curly hair that can barely ever be tamed. Brilliant scientist, who seems to know a little bit about everything. Talented musician, always humming a tune. Wildly enthusiastic about everything. Doesn't know how to love except with the whole heart," she recited from memory. For so long, those words had been like a prayer. "That's you, isn't it?"

"Is…is it?" Lucien was confused. That description could have been him, he supposed. "Jean, what's the matter?"

Her mind began to put all the pieces together. "You like the smell of candle wax. And tell me, what do you smell right now? Whenever you're near me?"

He was taken aback. How could she possibly know that? "Roses. You always smell like roses."

Jean had to laugh. It was a harsh, cynical sound, even to her own ears. "Oh how could I have been so stupid!? That's why you're here. That's why you found my letter."

"What are you talking about?" he asked, practically begging for an explanation.

She opened her mouth to explain her true love spell and how it must have conjured him up just for her.

 _MUM, HELP!_

Jack's voice in her head jolted Jean to standing. "Jack's in trouble." She didn't say anything else as she ran off.

The aunts were standing at the bottom of the stairs in the house, waiting for Jean, and looking incredibly cross. "What did you do?" Nell asked.

Lucien came running in just behind Jean. The witches all ignored him.

"She was going to stab Jack in the chest with a knife, so I used my magic to protect him."

Agnes nodded. "Just like your mother."

Jean suddenly understood what had happened. Like her mother before her, Jean had used her magic to protect her child, causing the death of the one who threatened them. A long-buried memory flashed in Jean's mind. She had been about four years old when her father, drunk, had lumbered toward her, fist raised in anger, before her mother had killed him to protect her.

"What happened after that?" Agnes pressed.

Blinking, Jean continued, "Jack didn't want us to be murderers. We had to bring her back. If the magic killed her, it could bring her back."

Nell's eyes went wide. "Jean, you didn't!"

"She practically jumped off the table and attacked him again! She'd grabbed hold of a kitchen knife. So I hit her with the frying pan."

"You killed the body again, but the soul remained free. You see? This is what happens when you try to do magic after spending a lifetime shunning your gift!" Agnes scolded.

Jean frowned, afraid of what that could mean. "What's happened to Jack?"

"Go up and see for yourself. We've got them contained for now," Nell explained. "But now that we know what you did, we'll find a spell to send her back where she belongs."

Jean ran up the stairs to her son's room. Lucien followed close behind, equally fascinated and terrified at everything he'd just heard.

A loud cackle came out of Jack's mouth. It was unmistakably Maggie's. "Oh Jeanie, I know all about you," she said, using Jack's body as close to Jean as possible.

The aunts had set up a protective barrier that the spirit was unable to cross.

Maggie continued, "I know all about you, how you'll do anything for your Jack. Absolutely anything. Even protect him from the truth. But he knows. I'm here in his head. He knows his father didn't die from hitting his head during an earthquake."

Jean's eyes grew wide, afraid to hear the truth she had buried for so long.

"Jack doesn't like thinking about it, but I found it in here. His father feared your magic and Jack's. And Jack made the house shake. That's why he fell, isn't it? That's why he died. Because Jack wanted to protect you." She cackled again. "I'm so glad I found you two. You're the perfect playthings."

"Maggie, you leave them alone!" Lucien shouted.

Jack's head turned and smiled. "Dr. Blake! How could I forget Charlie's favorite uncle? He was my favorite, you know. That's why I had the baby at all. Charlie and his dad were so sweet to me. But you never trusted me. You made Matthew believe I was all wrong for Charlie. And they made me so mad! That's why I killed her. Rose. That's what we named the baby. Before I snapped her neck. Charlie was upset, so I put him out of his misery. Twenty-three stab wounds, wasn't that the final count they gave at my trial?"

Jean was horrified. She needed to get that vile woman away from her son if it was the last thing she did.

"I'm glad Jean killed you," Lucien spat.

They were met only with another cackle.

The aunts arrived in the room with their spellbook, huddling close to Jean in the far corner of the room. "It looks like we can't get rid of her while she's using Jack's body for her possession," Nell whispered.

"So what do we do?" Jean asked in response.

"We can't kill the spirit without killing the body," Agnes revealed gravely.

Jean looked at her son, his face contorted with Maggie's maniacal expression. All it did was strengthen her resolve. "Right," she stated simply.

"What are you doing?" Lucien asked in worry.

She smiled sadly, reaching up to stroke his bearded cheek. "I do wish I could have had more time with you, since I waited so long. But do take care of Jack, would you?"

His eyes widened with panic. "Jean?"

The aunts knew what she was going to do, and they knew they couldn't stop her. Nell put a comforting hand on Lucien's arm.

Jean stepped over the line of the protective boundary. She stood tall and proud in front of her son. "How would you like to play with a bit more power, Maggie?" she taunted. "Jack's got plenty, but he's never used it much. So much untapped potential that you can't get ahold of. Why don't you try me?"

Lucien watched and realized what Jean was doing. She was going to get Maggie's spirit to inhabit her body so the aunts could kill her and rid the world of Maggie Rhodes once and for all. "Jean, no!" he shouted. Agnes and Nell held him back.

Jean glanced at him, feeling her heart break, knowing what she had to do. "You know why Lucien is here, Maggie? Because of me. Because I conjured him with a true love spell when I was a girl. And here he is. Do you know what kind of powerful magic that is? I've got it all here in me for you to use. Come take a swim in real potential."

Jack's head tilted as Maggie curiously considered the offer. "But I love Jack," she replied through Jack's mouth.

"So do I," Jean replied. "More than you ever could.

The statement had its intended reaction. "You can't possibly love him like I do," Maggie argued angrily.

"See for yourself," she challenged.

Jack's body began to vibrate and convulse. Immediately, Jean wrapped her arms around him and held her son as tight as she could. "I love you, Jack. I will always protect you," she promised, her voice a strained whisper in his ear.

He coughed violently, but Jean just kept holding on. In a strangled voice, he said, "I love you, Mum. Thank you."

The whole house shook, lifting up from its foundations and crashing back down. Thunder and lightning cracked through the air. Everyone—Jean, Jack, Lucien, Nell, and Agnes—were thrown down to the floor.

Then, as suddenly as it began, everything went quiet and still once again. Lucien helped Nell and Agnes each stand up. They turned to see Jack and Jean both lying motionless on the floor.


	5. Chapter 5

Lucien didn't pause for a moment. He scrambled over to Jean, just as Jack coughed and sat up. Jean still wasn't moving.

"Jack?" Lucien's tone was tentative, afraid of hearing Maggie's voice come out of his mouth again.

"Mum?" he asked, confused and disoriented. Jack blinked and saw Lucien watching him, knelt beside Jean's body. "Is she okay?"

"I don't know."

"You're a doctor! Do something!" Jack insisted, feeling the panic setting in.

The aunts looked at each other, silently agreeing on their suspicions of what had happened. "Get the broom," Nell whispered. Agnes nodded. They left the room.

Jack crawled across the floor to his mother, lying beside where she lay, holding her hand in his. He could see the rise and fall of her chest with each ragged breath. He felt tears pool in his eyes. "Please Mum, please wake up."

Lucien was trying to check for a pulse or for neurological function, but he had a feeling that his medical training was no match for possession by an evil spirit, or whatever strange magic it was that he had witnessed. "Jack, what happened to Maggie?"

Jack sniffed back his tears. "I don't know. I don't feel her anymore. She's been in me since we buried her body behind the rose trees. And now I feel free for the first time. She left me. Just like Mum wanted."

Ever so gently, Lucien stroked Jean's cheek. He was afraid for her to open her eyes in case he saw Maggie's amber brown glare instead of Jean's beautiful turquoise gaze. "Did she mean what she said? That I'm here because of a spell?"

"I don't know," Jack replied truthfully. "And I don't know if Maggie is in there or not."

"She isn't."

The men turned to see the aunts back in the doorway. Nell and Agnes both looked up at the ceiling. A dark splotch had formed there, almost like a water stain. "Lucien, carry Jean into her room. Jack, you stay with her. We'll take care of this."

Jack led Lucien, holding Jean in his arms, to the bedroom across the landing. As soon as they had crossed the threshold out of the room, they saw the dark patch disintegrate from the ceiling into a pile of dust. The aunts swept it up into a bucket.

Lucien deposited Jean onto her meticulously-made bed. He brushed a stray brunette curl from her face as he sat down on one side of her. Jack, still feeling a bit shaky from his ordeal, sat down on her other side. Both men stayed silent, staring at Jean, willing her to wake up.

The aunts came in after a little while. Agnes explained, "Jean knew what she was doing. She knew that Maggie's spirit fed off discontent and distrust." She paused, looking pointedly at Jack before she continued, "But Jean was right when she said that love is powerful magic. And she has more to give than most people in this world, I'd imagine. It's what brought Lucien here to find Maggie and solve that mystery. But her love for you, Jack, has protected you your whole life, and it protected her from Maggie. We're all safe because she loves you so very much."

Jack had always known his mother loved him. Of course she did. But it wasn't until that moment that he really understood what that had meant. If the aunts were right and she had summoned Lucien with a true love spell, she may have sacrificed her only chance for her own happiness in order to save him. Just as she had sacrificed her time and energy and magic for years saving him from all the stupid, reckless things he'd done. Jack knew he was unworthy of that kind of love and devotion, which made Jean all the more incredible for it.

Realizing what he had to do, Jack took her hand between both of his and closed his eyes. With all the concentration he could muster, he pushed his magic—his very life force—from his hands into hers. He willed her awaken, to regain herself from wherever she was trapped. He tried to express every ounce of gratitude and admiration and love he had for his mother. Because if love could save him, it could save her too.

"You brought me back."

At the sound of her voice, Jack's eyes snapped open. "Mum?" he said in disbelief.

"I'm here, Jack."

He fell into her arms and cried, this time in relief. She held him tight and smiled contentedly. Jean didn't quite know what had happened, but she instinctively knew that everything was alright now.

Lucien looked fondly at the mother and son. But he knew he had no place here. He stood discreetly to escape from the room, giving Jean and Jack their privacy. The aunts had already backed out the door unnoticed.

Jean noticed him and said, "Wait! Lucien, please." She patted Jack's shoulder so he would sit up. "Could we have a minute, please?"

"But Mum…"

"We have all the time in the world, love. But I need to speak with Lucien right now."

Jack reluctantly left the room, closing the door behind him.

Lucien moved back to the edge of the bed, helping Jean sit up. He took her hand in his and kissed the back of it. "How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Exhausted. I've never expelled an evil spirit before. It does take quite a lot out of a person," she replied, her lips quirking into a small grin. But she took a deep breath and the worry line in her forehead deepened as became much more serious. "Lucien, I need to explain."

"I was brought here because of a spell you cast, is that it?"

"Yes. But it wasn't just any spell. A true love spell doesn't just summon someone to you. It creates a person to the witch's exact specifications. Whatever it is that we might feel for each other…it isn't real. It was created by my magic."

"Why does that make it any less real?"

"Because I would always know that I dreamt you up and made you real."

Lucien shook his head in protest, but instead of arguing with her, he leaned in and kissed her. Their lips found a natural rhythm together. Jean's hands found a place on his bearded cheek and on the back of his neck. He wrapped his arms around her, anything to feel her closer to him.

But Jean pulled away. "Please don't," she begged. "It isn't fair, and you have to go."

"Jean, I…"

"Please," she insisted. Jean turned her face away, unable to look at him. She desperately wanted to pull him back into their passionate embrace and never let him go, but she knew better. She knew that she couldn't allow herself to give in to what her magic had brought her. He deserved better than that.

Lucien didn't have the words to disagree with her. He stood up from the bed and walked out of the room, down the stairs, and out of the house without another word.

The next month saw rapid changes for the Beazleys. Jack had decided that the best thing for himself and for his mother was for him to stay. He swallowed his pride and his bad attitude and asked Patrick Tyneman for a job. He'd always been good at getting people to like him and feel comfortable when he'd wanted to, so working as a salesman in one of Tyneman's shops seemed a good fit.

And it was. Jack suddenly became the most popular person in town. He had even found a way to get everyone to enjoy the magic of his family. He conjured flashy, harmless spells to entertain the children and impress the adults.

The more well-liked Jack became, the more people seemed to trust and enjoy Jean. She found herself with friends for the first time since she had been married to Christopher. Her florist shop increased its business; everyone seemed to want to buy Jean's flowers, as though they were imbued with the magic Jean and her son possessed.

This strange new world was an adjustment, but a pleasant one. Things were almost good enough for Jean to ignore the aching hole in her heart left by her decision to turn Lucien away. Rationally, she knew it was the right decision. But every time she closed her eyes, she saw his face. In the silence, she heard his voice. In the darkness, she felt his touch.

One day, a letter arrived at the house addressed to both Jean and Jack. Jack read it first, his eyes narrowing in curiosity, before handing it to his mother to read.

 _Jean and Jack Beazley,_

 _You don't know me, but my name is Matthew Lawson. I've known Lucien Blake most of my life. He's spent the last two years searching for Maggie Rhodes. She murdered my son, Charlie, and my granddaughter, Rose, and escaped from custody._

 _Lucien told me that Maggie very nearly brought the same tragic end to your lives, but in acts of self-defense, she died in a struggle. I had always hoped to see her go to prison for the rest of her miserable life, but this ending seems more fitting, somehow. There is a comfort in knowing that she can't ever do to anyone what she did to my family, and I hope that knowledge is a comfort to you, too._

 _Jean, I hope you won't find it presumptuous of me to tell you that Lucien hasn't let a single day go by since returning home without talking about you. I don't think I've ever seen him so enamored by anyone or anything the way he is by you. He's a man of incredible depth, created by true tragedy, but he's the most brilliant, kind, loyal man I've ever met. And if you're anything like his list, as he claims you are, I hope there is a way for you to find your way back to each other. But it probably isn't my place to say that._

 _I'll conclude by thanking you both again for the closure you've given me. I wish you well._

 _\- Matthew Lawson_

Jean frowned, unsure of what to make of the letter. Without saying anything, she placed it on the kitchen table and walked away.

Jack looked at the envelope to see the return address. It was far away. But the postmark was local. It had been mailed in town the day before.

Instinctively, he went to the front window. And sure enough, Lucien Blake was standing in front of the house, waiting. Jack went out to greet him. "Fancy seeing you here."

"You got Matthew's letter?"

"Just now, yes. Did you read it?"

"No. But he asked me to deliver it for him after he convinced me I needed to come back here," Lucien replied.

Jack smiled. "He mentioned a list you have about my mother. What is it?"

"Oh, that," Lucien replied sheepishly. He pulled his wallet out of his pocket. "I can't have been older than fourteen when I wrote this. I tried to think of the most perfect woman in the world, and I wrote down everything I wanted her to be so I'd know what to look for. I've kept it with me ever since. It's silly, but it's habit, I suppose." He handed the old scrap of paper to Jack to read.

 _Fiercely independent, wildly talented, confident in those abilities, but unassuming. Striking, unmistakable, expressive features. Soft lips and nimble fingers. Effortless cook, intelligent head for business. Organized and neat but not fussy. Inner strength that lifts everyone up. Wants to save the world, no matter what the personal cost._

Jack looked up, grinning. "You're right. It is her."

"I told you to go."

Jean's cold tone caused Jack and Lucien to turn to see her standing in the doorway.

"I had to explain something to you. And if you still want me to go after I've said my piece, I'll go and never bother you again," he promised.

Jack walked into the house, still grinning. He placed a hand on her shoulder and nodded before leaving them alone.

Lucien allowed Jean to walk toward him. She felt like a magnet was drawing her close to him. There was a change in the wind, causing the scent of the roses in the garden to reach her nose. Or maybe that was just him.

"What did you want to say?" she asked, trying desperately to keep her head high and her voice steady.

Lucien handed her the list he had just shown Jack. "I wrote this when I was fourteen. And I'm a bit older than you. So that would be years before you cast that true love spell. I might not have magic, Jean, but I hope you'll agree that I conjured you just as you conjured me. I don't feel this way about you because of your magic. I feel this way about you because you are the impossible woman that I imagined as a young man. And even if this is just a product of your spell, I don't care. You are perfect in every way, and I will love you for the rest of my life, whether I'm in this town with you or living far away, never to see your face ever again. Your beautiful, beautiful face." He looked at her with a dreamy, lovesick expression.

Jean read through the list more than once. If it was about her, it was the most flattering description she'd ever received.

 _It's your turn for happiness, Mum._ Jack's voice sounded in Jean's head. He was getting much better at using and controlling his magic, and after recent events, she was very proud of him for it.

She put her hand on Lucien's cheek, stroking his beard. He closed his eyes like a contented cat, leaning into her touch. And with Jack's blessing, Jean did the thing she'd been dreaming of all her life. She leaned in and kissed her true love. It was just as wonderful as she remembered, made that much better because she finally understood. It was real. He was real. He was here. And he loved her as she loved him.

From the kitchen window, Nell and Agnes watched Jean finally get everything she deserved in life. No more fear and shame. No more isolation and desperation. No more sacrifice and worrying for Jack. Everything was just as it should be. Jack was safe, and Jean was loved. And they were happy.


End file.
